


Wicked Tongues

by HardingHightown



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardingHightown/pseuds/HardingHightown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stolen moment in the Winter Palace during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Tongues

"Lady Cadash, may I have this dance?"

 

She never thought he'd actually ask, the sod.

 

"I don't feel much like dancing right now." Her head had been pounding and she still felt the unease stabbing at her, like nothing here was safe at all. She knew that she was supposed to still be angry at him for leaving her wanting after that first night they spent together, but something inside her pushed that away and she found herself continuing, eyes turned away from his gaze, "But I could use some company if you don't mind."

His arm was around her shoulders in a moment, and when she looked up he was gazing at her with a warmth she was unsure she'd ever inspired in anybody else. She let herself be carried away in it, wrapping his arm around her and settling against the strength of his body. She was faintly aware of him kissing the crown of her head as she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, letting her body relax for the first time in weeks. He held on to her, and she felt like she could stay there forever.

“You did well tonight, Inquisitor.”

She groaned against him, burying her face in his side. "I think some parties may disagree."

He held on tighter.  "It wasn't an easy decision. But you made it. Not many would be able to keep their heads in such a position. Yet alone charm the court the way you did."

"I don't think Sera will ever forgive me."

His laugh rumbled against her.  "Maybe not. But you did what you had to, and kept your head at that."

"It was a close thing. My jaw hurts from the restraint."

"I can well believe it."

He held her there in the silence that followed.  She noticed his gloved fingers running over the short side of her hair, soothing away the pain underneath. His other hand held on to her waist, and she could feel herself starting to breathe in time with him. It was... uncomfortably comfortable. She hated that with such a small gesture, all the careful walls she'd put up were gone.

He kissed her hair again, then breathed in the scent of her. She became very aware of his lips, how close they were, how if she just turned her head slightly...

Blackwall kept his lips close to the edge of her hairline, his lower lip brushing slightly. At this distance, he knew he could control himself... But the more he breathed in the scent of her, the longer her breath matched his, the harder it became to resist the urge to turn her face to him.

It turned out that he didn’t need to.

She moaned softly and looked up at him, her golden eyes heavy-lidded, and he was completely lost. The arm around her body picked her up with ease, and he placed her on the edge of the balustrade, not leaving a single second before his lips met hers. She responded eagerly, her hands winding on his hair and her tongue pushing past his lips. He was a weak fool and she knew it, and knew exactly how to play him. Her lips pulled away from him, her breathing jagged and uneven as she sat, her forehead pressed against his, her breath still warm against his lips.

“We should go back inside, Warden.”

“We should.”

“Then you should probably take your hands off me.”

He’d not even noticed how his hands had moved down the curve of her back, how they now sat on the curve of her behind. Her own hands were on his collar, the threat of pulling him in for another kiss twitching in the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t feel much like moving, Blackwall?”

There it was. That awful little sparkle in her eye. That challenge she gave without any words, half-mocking, half-enticing, all driving him forward as he grabbed her by her ample arse and dragged her to the edge of her seat, pressing their bodies together. Her lips found his this time. With the filthiest, wettest kiss, she arched her body against him, chuckling slightly at the moan that escaped him before he could stop himself. She pulled back, sucking on his bottom lip. It would bruise. He didn’t care.

“I didn’t think so.”

He went in to kiss her again, but she pulled back, cocking her head to the side. Making him wait. Pulling back control. Leaning in again, she let her tongue lap at his bruised lip, leaving him wanting.

“You’re a brave man, Blackwall.”

He let out a soft shiver of a laugh, licking his lips to try and recapture the taste of her. “I am?”

“Every Marcher knows that Carta girls will break your balls, then break your heart.”

Her hands slipped slowly down his body, one stopping at his sash, the other moving still further downwards. He kept her gaze, struggling to keep his breath even as she moved towards him again, oh so slowly, her mouth so open and inviting and-

“Inquisitor, the Dowager Countess wishes to speak with you.”

The Nightingale’s voice was cool and clear, ringing out over the balcony. He pulled away, standing as straight as he dared, whilst Siba just sat there, grinning.

“I’ll be right there.”

She hopped down from the balustrade with effortless grace, signalling to Leliana to go forth into the grand ballroom- which she did, but not before shooting a look at him which made any warmth left in his body shrivel away. Alone again, Siba extended a hand to him. “Shall we enter together,” she said with a warmth that he yearned for, the warmth she reserved for only those she loved. “We can cause a scandal. I’ve always wanted to be scandalous.”

His stomach tightened. It would indeed be a scandal. One man had already come perilously close to recognising him. To walk into a ballroom, to have all those eyes on him again…

“We best not, my Lady. For the Inquisition’s sake.”

The warmth in her eyes dissolved in an instant, replaced with that cool glare that the world saw. His heart sank as she clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth, anger flicking out in that click click click sound. She said nothing to him. Instead, she bowed deeply to him in the Orlesian style, following it with a much less refined gesture before stomping into the ballroom.

The applause from the room behind him flooded the balcony as he traced a gloved hand over the warmth where she had just sat.

Maker’s balls, he fucking _hated_ Orlais.

 

 


End file.
